


Good of Mind, Body and Eye (Anselmet)

by larryent



Category: Best Song Ever - One Direction (Music Video), One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alpha Edward, Alpha Harry, Alpha Marcel, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Greek Mythology, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Anselmet, Bottom Louis, Charles Bukowski, Death, Double Anal Penetration, Fortuna - Freeform, Foursome - M/M/M/M, Greek Mythology - Freeform, Greek and Roman Mythology - Freeform, Greek gods, Inspired by Music, Latin, Laughter During Sex, Louis has a son, M/M, Magic, Male Pregnancy, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Medieval English Names, Medieval Medicine, Middle Ages, Mpreg, Mpreg Louis, Multi, Mythical Beings & Creatures, OW, Omega Louis, Oral Sex, Original Wiccan Characters, Peasant Louis, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Harry, Possessive Marcel, Possessive Sex, Potions, Pregnant Louis, Pregnant Sex, Prince Edward Styles, Prince Harry Styles, Prince Marcel Styles, Queen Gemma Styles, Raising the Dead, Rough Oral Sex, Rutting, Shy Louis, Spanking, Spells & Enchantments, Supernatural Elements, The Styles Triplets, Threesome - M/M/M, Top Edward, Top Harry, Top Marcel, Triple Penetration, Were-Creatures, Werebabies, Wicca, Wiccan - Freeform, Witch Curses, Witchcraft, Witches, greek goddesses, magick, possessive Edward
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-04
Updated: 2018-10-09
Packaged: 2019-05-17 23:23:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14841182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/larryent/pseuds/larryent
Summary: Alternative Title: Anselmet"The one with the mark of the eternal stone will be the mate of three and bear the end to all evil."ORLouis is a peasant in the small village in England, with an ex-mate who abandoned him and his son, Anselmet. And, the three Princes of England are just about terrifying.Inspired by and uses lyrics from Rihanna's "Diamonds" and BØRNS’ “Past Lives”.Title from Charles Bukowski's poem: "not unlisted".larryent May 2018





	1. Good of Mind, Body, and Eye (Anselmet)

**Author's Note:**

> Helloo again! I'll be starting anew fic even though I have about seven unfinished ones lol..
> 
> Title from Charles Bukowski's "not unlisted".  
> Includes lyrics from and inspired by Rihanna's "Diamonds" and BØRNS’ “Past Lives”.
> 
> Please note that I will be adding both accurate and fake information about the Middle Ages in this story, for example: they didn't speak Old Occitan in England during the Medieval period and The Saint British Empire is obviously not real. So, the dialect will be different and I'll be making up information too. This is a fan-FICTION.
> 
> ok here we go, have fun babies Xx

"Hello, Emery." Louis waves at the man as he steps up to the small wooden stand. "Same order as always, five loaves of wheat bread, please."

"Emery, do you remember me?" The small toddler in Louis' arms asks softly, his voice almost a whisper.

The grey-haired man smiles, his grey eyes crinkling behind his glasses. His pale skin in contrast to his beige long sleeve and black pants. "How could I forget you, Anselmet?" The Alpha turns his back for a moment before facing Louis again, now holding a medium sized brown woven sack. "That will be four pounds, even."

"How is Yvette? Is she still sick?" The blue-eyed Omega reaches into his pocket, pulling out the money to count the right amount.

The small, blonde toddler wiggles in Louis' arms. "Ma, may I count it, please?"

Louis grins and passes the money. "Sure, baby." He looks back up at Emery, seeing the man run a hand through his thinning hair.

"She has gotten better, almost as healthy as you and I." Emery lets out a sigh of relief. "How is he?" The man nods his head towards Anselmet, who was distracted by quietly counting the money in his tiny palm.

"He is getting stronger every day, right love?" Louis pokes his fingers in Anselmet's tummy and the toddler giggles, and squirms.

"Yes, Mama. Mr. Emery, four pounds." Anselmet slowly passes the money to Emery's awaiting hand, curling back into Louis' neck after licking his mother's cheek. On instinct, Louis holds his hand over Anselmet's ear and shushes the boy softly. Emery offers him a sympathetic expression before giving the sack of bread to Louis. "Take care, you two."

"As do you, Emery," Louis calls over his shoulder. He struggles to hold Anselmet but pushes through it as he weaves his way through the crowd of people, all of them gathered in the town square. He eventually stops too, standing on his tippy toes to see what was that was grabbing everyone's attention.

He only gets a short glance at a man. He wore rich red fabric, fitting snug around his muscular body in a suit, his dark brown hair, covered with a gold crown, shiny jewels and engraved swirls from what Louis could see. The taller man's glued on the man beside him and Louis knows he's seen him before. "The time has come, yet another year has passed since the last Gala where the Princes will look for a suitable mate. All Beta's and Omega's between the ages of 18-28 will have invitations in their mailboxes that cordially invites them to the Gala in 14 days." He read from the scroll in his hands.

Louis is too distracted by the words from the blonde man, and he doesn't even register the loud growling that nearly rumbles the ground beneath his feet. He tries to see what the commotion is about but Anselmet's loud wails earn him all the eyes of everyone in the town square, even the Princes'.

Their cold eyes zero in on Louis as his cheeks flush and he scurries away, pushing through the crowd and soothing Anselmet with deep rubs on his back.

 

 

Deep in the Styles castle, sitting in dark wood cushioned chairs, were the Princes. Harry holding a pencil in his hand as he wordlessly drew in his notebook, Marcel reading a small but thick leather-bound book and Edward clasping a cup of tea in his hand.

"It was I who saw him first."

Harry rolls his eyes at his brother's tone. "He is no object, brother."

Edward and Marcel turn to the eldest.

"He was very youthful, and very.. pretty." Marcel adds.

"He is a peasant," Renard says, recalling the moment he saw the small Omega. "And that child, what if it is his?"

"I have no care for his social status." Harry pulls at his bottom lip with his fingers. "What about you, brothers?"

"Not at all." Marcel and Edward answer in unison.

"I am positive that our older sister would not appreciate your ill judgement." Marcel warns with a hint of irritation in his voice.

"But the child, your highness."

"I admit I cannot be certain there was a mating mark on his neck nor can I say if that child is his." Marcel looks up from his book, pushing his glasses higher on his nose.

Renard nervously shuffles on his feet. "What do you wish for me to do?"

"I want him found and I want you to bring him to our steward. He will get a custom suit of any fabric he wants for the Gala, and that little boy too. I believe we should not pry into his life just yet, possibly wait for the night of the Gala." Harry orders and faces his brothers. "Are we all on the same page?"

"He should get a crown." Edward breathes out, almost dreamily.

"And a crown." Harry adds. "For both of them."


	2. I

"Mama, we play after dinner?" Anselmet asks, his wide innocent blue eyes staring up at Louis. His small hand gripping a thin slice of wheat bread.

"What do we always do after we eat, Anselmet?" A cold voice asks.

The small toddler's head shoots across the table to his step-grandmother. "We clean, Celestine."

The red-headed woman nods, her short straight hair bobbing. "And therefore, you may not play after dinner." She orders.

Louis conceals his shiver and offers his son a gentle smile, "we will play outside after cleaning, okay baby child?"

Anselmet twiddles with his fingers. "Okay, ma." He agrees delicately.  
  
  
  
  
  


"Hello."

Louis looks up from Ansel, his immediate reaction to a stranger was to tug his boy closer. "Hello." He greets cautiously.

There's a middle-aged man standing at the gate of their small, old house. He had brown eyes, and his thinning hair was a fading black, and his clothing was red with silver linings, and a cape-like jacket was snug over his shoulders. "I was sent by the three Princes of England to retrieve you and bring you to the castle for a fitting with their tailor." His posture remains straight as his eyes dart to Ansel, who was occupied with a small wooden truck.

The Omega nods, unsure as he stands up from his knees. He remembers the man's face from the previous day. "Okay." His voice quiet.

Renard purses his lips, reading off his small scroll. "They wish of you to attend the Gala—"

"I cannot." Louis interrupts.

Anselmet tilts his head up from his small toy, "look, mama, horse." His tiny finger points to the tall animal that was tied to a nearby post. "Ma, it horse."

Louis then becomes aware of his surroundings, he hadn't even heard the horse trot up to his house.

"Yes, it is, baby." Louis' long sandy fringe nearly blocking his vision as he glances at Renard. "I will not be attending the Gala." Louis' words were quick, as he scoops Anselmet up in his arms.

Renard opens his mouth before shutting it. Then finally asking, "why?"

But, Louis was already gone, having gone inside the small house with a straw roof and stone walls. The only thing left in his wake was the wooden gate swinging.  
  
  
  
  
  


"What do you mean, he cannot attend the Gala?" Edward stands from his throne, pointing a finger at Renard who had just delivered the un-welcomed news.

"Your Highness, he did not tell me." The chancellor defends. "He only said he cannot."

Marcel gets Edward to sit down again. He tries to not let his anger show but it's futile. The three brothers went to bed the previous night talking about meeting the blue-eyed Omega, and the little child he had—they were all excited, and they have never been more excited in their lives.

It was abrupt and like lightning. From stories they've heard, finding soulmates was as fast as the flap of butterfly wings. They never believed that until they saw the Omega. For three Alpha's as powerful and high-class like themselves, they felt a little obsessed.

"We send you to do one simple task.."

"Edward," the eldest stops his brother from saying something he would regret. "Renard just told us the Omega did not tell him why. Do not take your frustration out on a messenger." Harry faces Renard, clasping his hands together. "You have the Omega's name, correct?"

"Yes, your Highness." Renard's eyes are wide. "His name is Louvel Louis Tomlinson."

"And his child?"

"Anselmet Louvel Tomlinson."

"You have his records," Marcel pushes his glasses high on his nose. "Give them to me." He holds out his hand.

The chancellor quickly flips open his leather satchel, taking out the beige folder and handing it to the Prince.

It was thin, too thin, Marcel notes. When he opens it, he knew why. "It only has his and his son's birth certificates."

Renard avoids the Prince's eyes. They had a bad habit of intimidating anyone with one simple glance. "He did not attend school. I assume it was because his family could not afford it."

The brothers share a look. It was the harsh reality that only a few peasants would go to school a year, most of them staying at home to help with the livestock for their families until they became old enough and presented as Alpha or Beta when they would be sent off into town for labor. The Princes were able to be home-schooled by the top teachers and professors in the country. They could read and write in many languages like Latin, Old Occitan, and Greek. Dread washing over him, Marcel quickly shut the folder, not reading any of it as his eyes follow his older brother as he stands again.

Harry's tall, board frame in a fitting button up with small ruffles along the middle of his chest that went up to his collar, the long shirt of his ending at his knees as it fanned out. "Renard, ready the horses. My brothers and I are going into town."

"No, you are not." A loud voice echoes through the grand hall. "The Evergreen pack will be meeting with The Sisters of Fortuna who will be visiting today." Gemma strides in with her extravagant dress with cherry red velvet and long, flared sleeves swooshing at her sides.

Renard, all the servants, and guards bowed upon seeing their Queen, her green eyes hovering over Harry's rigid figure.

"Will you please excuse my brothers and me for a moment." She requests, her sharp collarbones decorated with a simple gold necklace that shone in the dim light, and in the blink of an eye, all the servants and Renard scattered, the guards only moving further away from the Royals since they were bound to be with them at all times.

"I understand you are eager to meet that Omega and his son but we have duties." Gemma reminds her younger siblings. "And, when it is a matter as serious as this, it is mandatory that you all attend."

With a soft scoff, Harry sits back down and Edward slouches, "we understand, sister." The guards return to their places and one of them holds Gemma's hand to lead her up the stairs, to her throne. It was bigger than her brothers', with a heart-shaped frame of wood painted metallic gold with rich, plush cushions. The triplets' was shorter, less detailed in the engraved wood with yellow cushions.

"Very well then. They are to be here soon." The Queen folds her hands in her lap, her headpiece lined with golden studs and her hair cascading down by her sides. "Now, tell me about this Omega of yours."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> any thoughts ? :^)


	3. II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a cross between the medieval period and Greek mythology with a lot of Wicca and Witchcraft
> 
> So let's get some things clear before anyone gets confused.
> 
> Wicca: a subset of paganism. A spiritual belief system; a religion. Honouring the Lord and the Lady — in this fic, the Sisters of Fortuna (Wiccan coven) will be honouring the Greek goddess Fortuna. Uses magick.
> 
> Magick: defined as anything that brings a person closer to fulfilling their utmost fate.
> 
> Witchcraft: a practice, does not involve deities. Uses magic.
> 
> Magic: a form of manipulating the physical world through metaphysical means through ritual actions.
> 
> also, I'm not a health care professional and everything I learned about Anselmet's condition was from online.

Twelve women clad in long black robes lined with dark green braided thread that look familiar to vines. Their hooded heads bowed from the base of the stairs that led to the four thrones and four related royals.

"An honour to meet the rulers of the Saint British Empire, as always." The tallest of the twelve pulls down her hood. Her two different coloured eyes, one a yellow and the other a lifeless white, as the two long scars went from her hairline to the corner of her mouth. "To the North tower, I presume." Her posture remained as stiff as stone and her long grey hair cascade to her hips.

"Strega." Gemma acknowledges with a short nod.

As the queen stood, all three triplets soon followed. Their steps in pace with one another as they were crowded by guards and the twelve women afterward. 

 

 

"I think you are forgetting that our magic is neutral. It is not good nor evil, and stems from natural energies." Strega eyes the bothers sharply. "I would never dream of doing what you are asking."

"Your sisters could do no such thing we ask, but you can." Edward clasps his hands. "Strega, you were there. You fought alongside that demon himself." The Prince narrows his eyes sharply. "As if you had no choice."

Gemma clenches her hand on the table, her angry green eyes glowing in the dim candlelight. "Edward, watch it."

"You listen here, Alpha—" Strega seethes through her teeth, her scar stretching.

"Please," Marcel begs, as always the peacemaker. "There has to be something you can do."

Strega softens her glare. Returning to her seat across the Queen at the dark wooden table. Her eyes drift to the wavering candlelit chandelier. "His kind rely on black magic. That is beyond evil. They have witches—they follow no such deity, have no limits, convincing them will be useless." Strega breathes out.

"Says you," Edward hisses. "You were one of them, after all."

Strega's glare turns back to the Alpha, her mouth quirked into a grimace.

"You are a witch, do not try to pretend you are not." Edward continues, his daring personality shining through his cold facade.

"Brother," Harry warns.

The middle triplet continues. "Callican's right-hand witch turned good, now the leader among her Wiccan coven."

The woman takes a breath, getting a hold of her temper. She opens her eyes, calmly glancing over the table. "Just know the last day of the Duellum is coming. It is only a matter of time." Strega looks at her sisters, their faces all the same foreboding expression. "Cal and his immoral followers are always listening, so we best make this quick."

"But, there has not been a vampire sighting in a decade," Marcel says exasperated and leans back into the cushion of his chair. His hatred for the species showing through his normally tranquil and collected face.

"Centuries." Gemma corrects swiftly. "Surely, we would have spotted one by now."

"That is an advantage on our side, right?" Harry asks, his hair falling in front of his eyes before he tucks it behind his ear.

"Not unless they are hiding something, or more specifically I would say they are preparing." Strega drawls. "He knows the risks that live above the surface, he knows the threats that will be against him if he dares show his face here. If he and his coven remained down below for centuries—it is not long until he returns."

"You say it as if you are hoping for Callican's return."

"I am, your highness," Strega confirms. "Because the day he returns will be the last day of the war that slaughtered over half of our country. There will be no more of this weight of dread and uneasiness, he will return and put an end to it all." As Strega snaps her fingers, less than a second later there is a small, thin white book in her hand. The triplets are on the edge of their seats, watching the witch. "The only thing that will help us determine the last day of Duellum, is that it falls on the day the planets align."

"When will that be?" Gemma inquires. "I know you can find out, please Strega." Her voice lowers and shoulders sag. "Of course there is no preventing the return of Callican but the least we can do is prepare. Help us, please." The Queen even dares to reach out and grab Strega's hand, in clear desperation for the safety of her kingdom. Though, the woman's face remains unsure.

"Strega, do not let us be ignorant like our ancestors." Harry turns to the woman. "We will get you all the materials you need."

The silence in the room is killing them, Strega purses her lips before speaking. "All right. But, I will need every single thing I list and not one shall be skipped. You shall not be angry when you find out the deadline, because no matter what, it is coming, and it is sooner than we think." Strega speaks with her head held high. "When it is here, there will be no choirs, no celebration, only end."

Gemma gulps, hearing the drop in Strega's tone. "Tomorrow is when I will send some servants to retrieve those materials—"

"We will!" Marcel holds up his hand eagerly before settling back into his throne and clearing his throat. "I mean, we will go instead, sister." He gestures to his other brothers.

Gemma eyes him suspiciously before she seems to understand. Nodding her head once, "you may. Searching for that Omega of yours, I presume?"

All three brothers stand, in sync. Even straighten out their clothes in time with each other. "Yes, we are." They all say in unison.

 

 

"Louvel, I have told you millions of times — do not let Anselmet associate with the livestock."

"Celestine, they are his friends."

"Friends?" The woman raises both her brows. "They are our assets. They are the ones who provide the money to pay for your son's treatment."

Louis bows his head, his instinct for being scolded was based on his biology. He was an Omega, a natural submissive, the weakest of the genders. "I am sorry, Celestine." He apologizes. "I will bring him in now."

That night, there was not enough food and Louis goes without dinner. He gives it to Anselmet, the three-year-old munching happily on the wheat bread and corn. He bathes Anselmet after dinner and holds the boy close after tucking them both in his lumpy straw bed under a thin sheet.

 

 

It was autumn, Louis expected this to happen.

"Ansel baby, please stop crying." He holds his son close, quickly weaving his way through the morning crowds. "Anselment." He tries again but it's no use.

His son continues to wail, both of his tiny hands covering his ears. It broke Louis' heart to see his son like this, as it always did. The Omega finally comes up to the small little shack of light brown wood and quickly pushes the door open. All eyes are drawn to him and Anselmet, the small boy still sobbing loudly.

"Appointment for Anselmet," Louis speaks, rocking his boy softly.

The man at the counter files through the booklet on his tiny desk, his grey eyebrows furrowing. "You have not paid for your past two appointments."

Louis frowns deeply. "What?"

"No payments under the name Anselmet." The man says bluntly.

"But," Louis tries to find his words. "My step-mother pays—Ansel, honey." His attention is drawn to his son, who was now clenching Louis' clothes tightly.

The man's eyes fall to Anselmet, the crying boy. "I am going to have to ask you to leave." He moves out from behind the desk and his towering figure only intimidates Louis, causing him to step back slowly.

"Please." Louis pleads, cowering and clenching his son tightly, the wails coming from the boy's mouth were painful to his ears. "My step-mother is the one who pays, she must have forgotten."

"No payments, no appointment." The man shakes his head, giving no care to the toddler in Louis' arms as he pushes the Omega out the door.

"Please, sir!" Louis feels his face become hot as eyes fall onto him. "Please." He tries to rub Anselmet's back for comfort for both of them.

"Do not come back until you have your payments in." Then the light brown door slams shut.

Anselmet is still crying, and Louis stands outside the tiny little shack and rocks his son gently in his arms. Licking at Anselmet's tears and nuzzling the boy softly. The discomfort settles in the pit of his stomach when he feels smaller than he physically is with all the pairs of eyes burning through his thin clothing and onto his skin. Ansel's cries have lowered into choked sobs, his cheeks red with tear streaks and his big blue eyes framed by clumped lashes.

Louis feels his own tears pool in his eyes. Helpless is all he feels, helpless in the fact that he cannot provide for his own son, his own flesh and blood. The poor soul is forced to suffer under the life Louis has.

That was how it was. Poor people have poor lives, mate with poor people and have poor kids. It became worse for Louis' family after he presented as an Omega. He hated being an Omega.

That was when he felt himself bump into a hard body, quickly stepping away and holding his son tighter. "I am sorry." Louis looks down at his dirty, worn out shoes. He hears the person say nothing, so he takes that as his cue to leave, but a hand grips his arm.

All alarms in his head go off and he quickly pulls his arm away, twisting his body and holding his sniffling son away from the stranger.

"O-Oh, my." Louis stammers, his eyes widen when he sees the fairly tall, broad-shouldered man. "Um, I am so sorry, your highness."


	4. III

Louis has dreamed. He's dreamed of living a better life, of the world becoming a peaceful and just place for all genders. He's never dreamed of standing before three Royals in the middle of his tiny, poor town. They were so beautiful. The tallest was clad in red velvet, it tapered down behind his back to the back of his knees. Just brushing the top of his brown knee-high boots. His green eyes examining Louis from over his brother's shoulder. The one next to him was dressed in the lightest blue satin shirt, the buttons of that resembling the glimmer of pearls. Most of his chest was on display, showing his long silver chain hanging between his pecks. His lean legs clad in tight black pants.

"Good morning," the one before Louis greets. He had a very soft expression on his face, his green eyes a few shades lighter than his brothers. "I'm Marcel," he holds out a hand. His sleeves were decorated in gold lining, it was stitched on the dark green fabric of his jacket. His shoulders fitting it nicely.

Louis is quite speechless. His mouth opening but no words come out. He is brought back to his senses by a gentle tug on the back of his head. He fights all urges to tuck Anselmet away and run from the Princes, but Louis was raised better than that. He pries Anselmet from his shirt and stands the boy on the gravel ground.

The Prince's watch with curious eyes as the Omega whispers softly into his son's ear. Marcel is still holding out his hand as he watches both the Omega and the small toddler bow at his and his brothers feet. He immediately bends, grasping hold of the Omega's hand and helping the latter to his full height. The top of his head barely reaching Marcel's chin. "Hold your son, Omega. He needs you."

Louis croaks out a noise of surprise but obeys the Prince's request. He swoops Anselmet off the ground and nuzzles his cheek. That earns him a quick lick of affection from his son.

"Where have you been, Omega?" The one in blue inquires, stepping out from his brother's shadows and revealing himself to Louis. His pink lips in a thin line as he steps closer, eyes trained on the small toddler in the Omega's arms.

"I... Uh," Louis stammers. "Pardon?" He can feel the townspeople looking at him.

The Alpha hums, and Louis' inner Omega preens at the sound. "You denied our invitation." His chest rumbles in a growl. "Why, Omega?"

"Edward, you are scaring him." The tallest scolds, placing a hand on his brother's shoulder and offering Louis a hand. "Come, Omega. We must talk."

"I cannot." Louis' confidence surprises himself. "I cannot." He repeats, remembering his sole purpose for going into town today. As if Anselmet is reminded as well, he begins to weep softly into Louis' shirt.

"Why?" Marcel, the only one who actually introduced himself, asks. He leans forward, sniffing. "He smells anguished, why?"

Louis blinks several times. "He needs treatment." On that cue, Anselmet cries out loudly. Louis hates that sound and it's not long until he feels tears prickle in his eyes.

"What treatment?" One Alpha asks at the same time his brother questions, "where does he get treatment?"

Louis is only able to nod his head in the direction of the small wooden shack. His lips quivering.

"Okay," the tallest nods once. "Let us get him his treatment." He places a tender hand on Louis' shoulder but the Omega brushes it off.

"No," Louis' first tear falls, feeling overwhelmed with Anselmet's whimpers and the intimidating presence of the Prince's surrounding him.

"Omega, tell us what is wrong so we can help." The one in blue requests, stepping closer.

"His appointments have not been paid." He felt so small, so pitiful. "I cannot go in without being pushed out again."

"You were pushed?" The tallest furrows his brows, his inner Alpha ticked off at the new found information.

Louis watches defenseless as the tall muscular Prince disappears behind the wooden door and into the shack. He tugs Anselmet closer, rocking him softly to soothe his discomfort.

"No need to be frightened." The one called Edward offers Louis a smile, but it does little to calm his nerves. "Harry is," he looks at his brother, "Harry is protective."  
  
  


 

Minutes later, Louis is nearly sweating from the tension between him and two of the three brothers. Their eyes burn into his skin, through his bones and Louis feels like he's being probed at. Now, he's sat in the waiting room of the tiny office, watching as Anselmet is carried into the next room. His son's blue eyes rimmed red as silent tears stream down his face. Louis wraps his arms around himself, feeling awfully bare without his son's presence, he tucks his fingers into the thin sleeves of his dirty beige shirt, curling his toes in his black worn out shoes.

He carefully looks up to meet the Prince's gazes, and he nearly shivers. It's been so long since he's had the attention of an Alpha, much less three. Though, the Prince's eyes drop to Louis' collarbone and a red bite mark slightly faded greets their eyes. Louis feels his spirits drop after that, of course, the handsome Prince's see the mate-mark.

Then, reality comes crashing in. Louis is a peasant, an Omega, and without a mate but with a child—he was a true disgrace and felt like the slum of the town. He knew the town talked, and no doubt did people talk about him and his lonely life with his son.

"Your name is Louvel," Marcel has such kind eyes. "I think that's a beautiful name."

Louis gasps quietly, not many people were aware of his real name. It felt weird being called it after so many years. "Thank you, your Highness." His head falls down and his eyes focus on the stone floor.

"And, your son," the one in blue begins, his head tilting to the side. "How old is he?"

No one has ever had such an interest in Louis' life, it feels strange and overwhelming to be the center of attention of three handsome Alphas. "Ansel is two, almost three," Louis answers.

"Omega, you are free to not answer but, where is Anselmet's father?" Harry, the eldest asks, moving to the free spot next to Louis.

He feels the Alpha's thigh brush his, and almost cowers away. "Oh," He blinks, "my mark, I...I  _was_  mated." He rushes. "When I was pregnant with Ansel, my mate left me." Louis forces himself to swallow the lump in his throat. "I had stopped taking care of myself, and that affected Anselmet horribly." Louis quickly snaps himself out of his daze and blinks away his tears. "He was born with an ear problem, which isn't very common for a wolf." Louis desperately tries to get ahold of himself. "His hearing is too sensitive and he needs treatment for it."

"Hyperacusis." Marcel states.

Louis turns to the Alpha, surprised. "Um, yes."

"Excuse my ignorance," Edward says sheepishly. "What is hypera.."

"Hyperacusis." Louis finishes for Edward. "Anselmet cannot handle normal volumes. Well, he is getting better, kind of." Louis fiddles with the hem of his ragged shirt.

"And?"

Louis turns to the eldest. "And what?"

"You said kind of," Harry leans forward with his hands on his knees, his long clean coat touching the dirty floor making Louis cringe a little. "What are you leaving out?"

The Omega feels heat crawl up his neck. "He has some days where everything is all too loud for him. Even the weather makes things worse, like today but autumn is not as bad as winter. His treatment helps, but even coming here so often only does so little in the long run. My family cannot afford the hearing aids for Ansel to keep, and I thought we were afloat with paying for his weekly treatment, I assume I was wrong." Louis admits, looking down at himself because here he is, telling three royal Princes of his poor life.

"Wait." Edward's low voice asks. "What do you mean?"

Louis looks down at his feet in embarrassment. "My step-mother organizes all our finances. I think she just forgot to pay for Anselmet's treatment again."

"Again?" Marcel furrows his brows.

"It isn't the first time." The sad look in Louis' eyes is enough to bring all the brothers down to their knees. They resist touching the Omega and only offer him their expression of sympathy.

 

 

Edward ties his horse's reign to the back of Harry's saddle, his clean black boots crunching the dirt softly. "There." He finishes the thick knot. "Do you need help getting up?" He asks the small Omega.

Louis stutters, "Um.. I.. You—"

"Mama." Anselmet seems to finally notice the tall animals before him. "Mama." He says louder this time, it's the loudest he can speak without hurting his own ears. "Horse, mama."

"Yes, baby child." Louis combs his fingers through Anselmet's unruly waves. "We are going to get on one."

Anselmet's eyes widen comically. "On horse?" He asks in disbelief.

"Yes, we are." Another voice speaks up. It's Marcel, with a charming smile on his face as he brushes off the saddle. "This is Rosalinda, she's an Appaloosa."

Anselmet eyes the fur of the animal, reaching out to touch before burrowing back in Louis' neck. He peeks out one eye and points back to the horse. "Spots."

Marcel grins, charmed by the young boy in Louis' hold. "Yes, she does have spots."

"White and black." Anselmet continues, slowly leaning out from Louis' neck and closer to the horse. "White." He points to one spot on Rosalinda. "Black." His tiny index finger pokes another.

The green-eyed Prince nods. "Yes, and look." Marcel points to oddly shaped marks on Rosalinda's side that curl around each other, right beside the saddle.

"Flower?" Anselmet tilts his head.

"Mhm." Marcel nods. "It looks like a rose, yes?"

"Yes."

"And her name is Rosalinda, yes?"

"Yes." Then it clicks, Anselmet quickly turns to his mother with even wider eyes, his bright blues shining. "Mama, I know why horse name is name."

Louis grins, an electric smile taking over his face. "Really?"

"Mhm." Anselmet makes a noise similar to Marcel's a few moments ago. "Horse name Ro—Rosalinda, 'cause horse have rose, Mama."

 

 

The look on Celestine's face is utter bewilderment. The colour drained from her cheeks, her eyes widening to the size of the sun, and her hands began trembling. She pulls Louis aside, towards a far end of their house though they're still in earshot of the Princes, they were Alphas after all. Her grip is tight around Louis' wrist, scolding him like he was a child. "What did you do? Did you steal something? I knew I should not have let you leave today—"

Louis squeaks softly, offended she would even think that. "I did no such thing." He yanks his wrist away, holding it to his chest. "I—they paid for Ansel's treatment today."

The woman's eyes widen, her red hair boldly contrasting with her pale freckle skin. "You let them pay?" She tries to keep her voice down.

The small Omega gulps, "They did not give me a choice, Ansel was crying... and they insisted."

"Louvel," Celestine clenches her fist, that scared Louis because not only was he an Omega but so was she, and they were biologically programmed to be gentle, motherly, and passionate creatures. Celestine was something different. "You dare let Royals pay for your son's treatment."

Louis' eyes are glued to her fist, almost shaking in rage. "I am sorry, Celestine. I will not do it again." He promises, his voice wavering.

The woman seems to calm down, her shoulders sagging and a deep breath escaping her lips. "You best not." She spits with spite. "They do not need to try to heal what is your fault."

The blue-eyed Omega catches the Princes' eyes from over Celestine's shoulder. He immediately hides his face into the sleeve of his shirt. "I understand, Celestine."

Across the room, the three Princes' almost lash out at the red-headed Omega, but Anselmet pulls them to a corner where a tiny wooden table and a few small toys laid. They all exchanged looks after Louis rushes to the bathroom after his talk with the other Omega, they all saw the tears falling down his cheeks. They could only offer sympathy. No empathy, for they had no clue of what Louis' life must be like. They were born into royalty, into an elite, loving, and warm family.

The Alpha's may have only met Louis today, but they knew he and Anselmet deserved more. They deserved love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so sorry for the late update . but I have big, big plans for this story and am hoping to make chapters very long. any thoughts ? :^)


End file.
